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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659497">Even if it Leads Nowhere</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhdbuck/pseuds/adhdbuck'>adhdbuck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, and esca is very stubborn, but marcus likes to think it is, marcus has a lot of feelings, they both are</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:21:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhdbuck/pseuds/adhdbuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus had heard fables of people dying of heartbreak, romanticized versions of a heart-shattering. He knew it was physically impossible, he had seen enough on the battlefield to know what hearts were capable of. But the maids had claimed in whispers that his own mother was suffering from heartbreak, he wondered if such a thing could be passed down.</p><p>Or; After returning the Eagle Esca and Marcus part ways.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Flavius Aquila/Esca Mac Cunoval</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Even if it Leads Nowhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*shows up 9 years late* heeeyyyyyyyy....</p><p>I rewatched the eagle again because for some reason it just entered my mind again, and then I was like "huh I wanna write something," so this is that. </p><p>hope ya like it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">From the moment Marcus’ back hit the lump of a mattress in the inn all the adrenaline that had been propping him up had left him. Immediately the pain in his knee returned and he felt the bile rise to his throat. A familiar feeling from the time at his uncle’s, one that had felt a distant dream as he gutted fish and cared for horses back at the camp, back when <em>he </em>was the slave. But he was no longer a slave, and neither was Esca. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The room’s emptiness seemed to purchase itself on his chest and Marcus began to feel it harder to breathe, though it could easily be blamed on his current physical state and not on the fact that his traveling companion was currently downstairs. Enjoying his newfound freedom with other Britons.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus had wanted to stay, truly, though watching Esca talk in his native tongue with a smile on his lips twisted something within him. Which could have been the adrenaline slowly making its way out of him, or it could have been<em> something else. </em>Marcus denied the idea as he made the way to their joint room, politely excusing himself in Latin. Esca gave him a short nod and a knowing look, the others paid no mind. As if he was not Marcus Flavius Aquila, who had returned The Eagle of the Ninth to Rome. To them he was another Roman, he wondered if Esca felt the same. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">By the time Marcus’ chest was about to burst he heard the light footfalls he had grown accustomed to hearing walking around in the early morning light in the villa. Marcus had made it a game as a child when he thought staying up late without the nursemaids or his mother knowing was truly the most devious plot he could conduct. He made it his mission to discern everyone’s different ways of walking. Something he had picked back up when he found himself waking up early due to his leg, something to distract from the pain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He found that Esca’s were the hardest to make out as if he did not walk at all and simply floated from place to place. The number of times he had walked into a room without Marcus knowing would have been unnerving if he were a lesser man he would have jumped at more than one occasion. (He had once, but swore Esca to secrecy.)</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Eventually, he managed to get a grasp on Esca’s, starting by listening as Esca moved about his room, watching the way his foot fell. It almost seemed to move from the ball to the heel, like the dancers his mother had taken him to see when he was still a child when his father’s name was still honorable. Marcus had gone home the night after the performance, mimicking the moves he had seen as his mother applauded for him, though he found it awkward and much preferred the heavy marching he had seen his father practicing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Nonetheless, Esca was back in their room, fluttering around as quietly as a drunk man could. He probably thought Marcus was asleep since there was no greeting for him, and Marcus intended to keep it that way, his knee had other plans. Since it decided then was the correct time to twinge his nerves, sending a shock through him that forced a loud breath from him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Marcus?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus would never admit how he felt when he heard his Roman name spoke on British tongue. Especially by his friend. <em>Only</em> by his friend. Though he still had not answered Esca back, finding words caught in his throat as his brow began to dampen with sweat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Marcus, my friend what ails you?” Esca’s hands made their way to his forehead and if Marcus was a lesser man he would have mewled and leaned into the touch. He wishes he were a lesser man. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca must have not liked what he felt because immediately the hand was gone and so was Esca, moving once again around the room but with much more sobriety. Marcus wondered if it was in his blood, the ability to dilute alcohol so quickly. Since his own Roman blood made the sweet wine take its time in his body, and he usually felt the effects even after a long night's rest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"><em>Two very different people</em>, Marcus mused, <em>how did we find ourselves here?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He knew the correct answer, the actual reality of what happened. But his brain? His heart? His soul? Wished for it to be something more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus blamed the fever for his thoughts and closed his eyes as Esca placed a cold wet cloth on his forehead. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He woke up in fits, and Esca was by his side each time. He’s not sure how perhaps by magic or perhaps his companion was a mirage that he had dreamt in a fever dream. Perhaps everything had been a dream, and he was still lying on the battlefield as blood pooled around him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If this was a dream, Marcus never wished to wake from it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Once or twice he would speak to Esca, mostly in whispers that had the other leaning forward. If he were a lesser man, it would have been so easy to pull Esca down to him. But Marcus had pride and Esca had honor. He refused to defile either. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Slowly Marcus found himself coming back into his body, and his voice had returned back to him. Since he was still in a hazy middle ground of wake and dream he found himself more confident than he had been in the past, even as a centurion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca, why do you stay?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca looked up from his sewing and gave Marcus that <em>incredulous </em>look he always does, even when he was under Marcus’ command his face would sometimes betray him if Marcus had something particularly disagreeable that day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What do you mean?” Other than the way he walked, Esca was not a soft man. Everything about him had points, Marcus hard learned that the sharpness of the elbows matched the tone of his voice. All words were pronounced as if Esca shot daggers out of his mouth, even if what he was saying wasn’t supposed to come out that way. However, Esca never needed words to tell Marcus how he truly felt, his face gave it away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus would never tell Esca this, in fear the other man would steel his face, never to make <em>that</em> expression again. When Marcus had thought he had lost him when Marcus asked if he had shamed himself, and now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Why do you stay here and take care of me?” <em>Maybe, </em>Marcus thinks to himself in his fever haze, <em>maybe he has forgotten…</em> Forgotten that he is free, forgotten that he is no longer bound to Marcus.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Because you are ill.” The simple, correct answer, the realistic one. The one that reflects what is happening <em>above</em> the surface. Marcus wished he was blessed with the ability to read Esca’s mind, it may have saved him from heartbreak, past, and future.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Because you are my friend,” Esca speaks with daggers that shoot straight into Marcus’ heart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You have no obligation to me anymore.” <em>You have no reason to stay. Leave me. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What kind of person would leave a sick man in an inn leagues from home?” Like most times, Esca was right. Not that it helped ease the storm in Marcus’ mind.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I would live.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Unlikely.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus sighs and looks away from Esca, the smirk that has been slowly creeping on his face was rather unbecoming of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Marcus, what is this about?” Esca puts a hand on his forearm and Marcus feels the fever in his skin reach a new high. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He might as well tell him, while he is looking away. Because while Marcus may not be a lesser man, he is a prideful one.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You are free Esca, there is no reason for you to stay and care for me. You can go anywhere you want, travel, drink….” <em>Meet pretty men and handsome women</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca takes Marcus trailing off as a sign that he’s finished saying, whatever it is he thinks is a logical argument, and takes this as his turn to sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“My friend, it is because I am free that I choose to stay by your side.” A pause. “If you don’t want me here I understand…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus whipped his head around, never had he heard Esca sound so <em>unsure</em> of himself. Marcus would do everything in his power to make sure his friend never spoke like this again, as long as he could help it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“No, there is nowhere I would rather have you go…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“But?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“But that is no longer my choice.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I understand.” <em>Does he?</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Do you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca just nods and smiles. <em>He’s been doing that more.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“At least let me see to you until you are well enough to walk around on your own, I wouldn’t want to leave you out here defenseless.” Esca was also very adept in the art of provocation, something that he loved to practice on Marcus. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus just scoffs back, sleep calls his head back into the mattress. “I was a centurion, a proud Roman soldier.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yes, very proud.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus doesn’t have the chance to retort, as Esca’s hand finds its way to his brow once more and he is lulled into a dream.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>His father is home, Marcus hands him the Eagle, Esca stands at his side, his father hugs him, shakes Esca’s hand, his mother is there, she is happy.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus’ fever breaks the next afternoon, Esca still stays. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus is able to walk downstairs to the tavern two days later, Esca is by his side, hand hovering the small of his back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca is there when Marcus drinks too much wine in celebration, and he is there when Marcus collapses into his bed. Esca is there when he empties the contents of his stomach, saying something about <em>Romans</em> and <em>their wine. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus just blames it on the blood in his veins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The innkeeper has slowly grown tired of their antics it seems, as his wife refills of their drinks take longer and longer, and also that he has asked multiple times over the past few days when they were deciding to leave. Marcus would like to say that he is Marcus Flavius Aquila, who had returned The Eagle of the Ninth to Rome, but he feels as though the sentiment would be lost on the owner who just wanted their room vacant again for another customer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He had decided that they would discuss Esca’s plans for the future, as much as he dreaded the thought of Esca no longer being with him, it was something that had to be done. For who’s sake? Marcus was not sure. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He busied himself with packing their possessions for the morning ride, not that they had much, traveling in the north required they traveled light, but they had obtained a few gifts from the senators. Marcus wondered idly how much the gifts were worth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca came into their room from making sure the horses were ready for the journey back, the two procured as gifts as well. The only things given to them that Esca had actually cared for. The smile on his face when the stablehand brought them out, Marcus wishes there was a way for him to etch the moment into his head permanently. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But now was not for reminiscing, there would be time for that later when Esca was no longer there. When Marcus would be a faint memory to him, a time from another life.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Marcus.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca was a sharp man, but becoming a freedman had undone a knot within him, Marcus noticed that his smiles were more frequent. He idly wondered how they tasted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But he was proud and Esca had honor.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Have you given any thought to what you will be doing next?” He tried to make it seem as though it was a normal conversation, but Esca was smart, Marcus had learned that the second he met him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I thought I would try and get some sleep next.” He had an ever-sharper tongue, <em>how would that taste…</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Marcus.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">His smiles were more frequent but that didn’t mean they were any less sarcastic. It drove Marcus mad, just enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“The conversation we had while I was fevered.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“The one where you believed that our room was a gladiator ring and that I was a lion?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If Esca was making this up Marcus had no idea, and he did not care. Esca was frustrating him, a perfected art at this point. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca if you do not cease this…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What would you do?” Esca is looking at him, really <em>looking, </em>and Marcus feels the fever return and his throat becomes dry and all he can do is look back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus may as well be in the gladiator ring because Esca is looking at him as though he is <em>prey. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“So that’s how a Roman blushes.” Marcus wonders if he was supposed to hear that, but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on that thought because Esca is making his way over to him and placing a hand on his cheek and if Marcus was red before, the Gods may have invented a new color. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But Marcus is proud, so he looks away because Esca means more to him than he may realize. He would do nothing to harm that, even though it harmed himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca just sighs and removes his hand. The moment has passed, Marcus knows it will one day be worth it, even when the pain in his heart ceases to subside. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I am well and able, I can make the journey back, thanks to you friend.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I see.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus needs to choose his words carefully, or maybe not. Would he rather have Esca as a friend someone who visits him at his lonely villa with his beautiful wife and wonderful children? Or should Esca be a dream that Marcus had woken up too soon from? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You are free to go anywhere you choose, you decide.” <em>Free from my side.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca hums and sits down on his bed, Marcus is still standing and the dull ache in his knee has begun to become more prominent. He decides it better to also sit down, to keep his leg from betraying him in the middle of saying that he would be fine without Esca. Even though he knows he won’t be.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Are you really that unable to stand my presence?” They both sit on their separate beds, facing the wall in front of them. Marcus does not have the strength to turn his head to Esca. He doesn’t know what Esca wants to hear, because Marcus cannot stand Esca’s presence it is true. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He cannot stand that Esca will always be near him and Marcus will never be able to hold him, not the way he wants. He recognized the look Esca had given him, something familiar to the looks of his fellow soldiers who had built up too much lust within them. He had seen that same look in the seal prince. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus recognizes the look Esca had given him because he has caught himself giving Esca the same look when he was well and able and had built up too much lust. But Marcus was not that kind of master and he refused to make Esca that kind of slave.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The look he had learned to control, but by quelling such thirst it made way for something else. Something that wanted to <em>touch </em>but not in the way many others had looked at him once wanted, no Marcus wanted to hold Esca, caress him. Of course, he would love to bed Esca, but that was no longer the thought that crowded his head. Bedding Esca just turned into <em>Esca. </em>A change he wishes he could control just as well, but he had failed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Now here he was, the man who had grabbed the reins of Marcus’ soul is asking him if he is able to stand his presence. The answer, of course, is no. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus will never be able to stand the fact that he may never have Esca, will never be able to hold him, because that is not what was written for him, and that was not what was written for Esca. Strong, noble, honorable Esca, who had survived seven years of being a slave, survived returning to the north, survived a fierce battle against a clan he might have once called family, survived his own tribe’s demise. Esca’s story ended happily, with a woman and children. Marcus would be a distant memory, the Eagle would just be another myth to his grandchildren.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus’ story ended alone, in a house filled with caretakers, until he slowly withered away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Their stories did not end together.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> “Marcus, answer my question.” Esca was sharp, he spoke with daggers. Even facing away from Marcus they still found a way to imbed themselves into his heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You will always be my closest friend.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“And that is not enough for you?” <em>No. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">But if in the end if that was all that Esca would give him, Marcus would take anything. Scraps from the larger table of Esca’s heart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“It is more than enough.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Then why do you keep asking me to leave? Why do you insist?” Esca is looking at Marcus, he can feel his eyes boring into the side of his face, it even begins to ache. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Because you are free.” Marcus turns to face him, maybe the ache will lessen if his eyes catch his. “Because you no longer have an obligation to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Do you think I do not know that?” The thought had crossed Marcus’ mind. “Do you think I did not know that past the wall I could have easily slit your throat any time I wanted, I could have truly betrayed you at the seal camp you would have been none the wiser.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus takes a breath to begin speaking, but Esca is not done. “Am I still a savage to you? A stupid boy that must be told when to breathe, to piss, to sleep?” <em>Of course not. </em>“Has it crossed that thick, Roman skull of yours that I choose to stay because I choose to stay. Because I am free.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The thought had also crossed Marcus’ thick, Roman skull, however, it never stuck. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I have nothing left to give you.” Sometimes, Marcus can speak the truth.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You are insufferable.” Esca brings his hands to his head as if Marcus is a headache he cannot be rid of. “In the morning, you plan to head back to your uncle’s?” The trip was only a few days ride away. The journey back was always shorter.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I do.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Then whatever way you ride,” Esca sighs. Marcus wishes his smile would return. “I shall ride the opposite.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus had heard fables of people dying of heartbreak, romanticized versions of a heart-shattering. He knew it was physically impossible, he had seen enough on the battlefield to know what hearts were capable of. But the maids had claimed in whispers that his own mother was suffering from heartbreak, he wondered if such a thing could be passed down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus just nods at Esca, and they fall asleep in separate beds.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>His father is home, Marcus hands him the Eagle, his father claps him on the shoulder, his mother is there, she is content.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">When he awakes Esca’s things are already gone, and Marcus is thankful there will be no solemn goodbye. Though the Gods are not kind, as he makes his way to the stable Esca is there calming his horse as he packs his belongings into her satchel. Marcus wonders if he could turn away and pretend that he was never there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Good morning.” <em>Guess not.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I wasn’t sneaking out on you, I just wanted to make sure everything was squared away.” It eases some tension within Marcus’ heart.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I see.” Esca just hums back at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It’s as if they are meeting again, and Esca has just thrown his father’s dagger at Marcus’ feet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Would you have preferred it if I snuck out?” Marcus sputters and the horses become uncomfortable. “I jest.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus’ doesn’t know if his heart can take much more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">They move in tandem and soon enough they find themselves mounted on their horses and making their way out onto the road. Their story is nearing the end, Marcus wonders if there is anything else left to be written for him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“It has been an honor.” The sun is rising, Esca has never looked more beautiful. If this is the last time Marcus sees him, he will thank Mithras every day of his life for such a memory. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Likewise, friend.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And like that, they part.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus refuses to turn around and look at Esca’s retreating figure, it would only sully the last image he has of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The journey back is always shorter, it is as if in a blink he has already returned to his uncle’s villa. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus retells the entire story and finds him repeating himself as Stephanos wishes to write the tale down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">His uncle makes an inquiry as to Esca’s location, Marcus tells him they decided to go their separate ways, his uncle just nods and pats his shoulder as he passes him on his way to his room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">There will be parties, senators will be making their way to him with offers, businessmen with daughters, legionaries who wish to see the famous Marcus Flavius Aquila, who had returned The Eagle of the Ninth to Rome. The wine and food and festivities will fill a hole in his heart for some time, but in the morning when he wakes the hole will be larger.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus knows what is to come, so he takes this night to sleep, to prepare for this new life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>His father is home, Marcus hands him the Eagle, his father smiles, his mother is there, she is pleased.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Over the next few months, Marcus’ predictions ring true. Many people make their way through his uncle’s estate, how it once was before the Aquila name was something no one wanted to be associated with. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The first few weeks Marcus can handle since most of it is parties and celebration of the return of the Eagle to Rome. However, the morning after is always plagued with a dull ache in his head and a matching one in his heart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Then comes the more serious dinners, where senators come to offer him positions of power. To command the new Ninth, he declines every time. His uncle just watches him throughout the night, as if he is an unruly child. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">There is one offer that Marcus takes, a plot of land, bestowed upon him for his valiance. Marcus leaves as soon as he can. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It is not as if he does not appreciate everything his uncle has done for him, and the villa is only a few miles away, not even half a days ride away. Marcus could no longer stand being watched, his uncle keeping an eye on him constantly, and when he couldn’t, it seemed as the slaves of the house seemed to keep it up for him. It became too much, he needed his own place, away from prying eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Though while the villa wasn’t exceptionally large by any means, Marcus quickly learned it would be too much to handle by himself, especially since winter was making its way back and his knee had begun to ache again. He begrudgingly agreed to allow his uncle to provide a <em>few</em> slaves, just enough to help on the farm and to cook when he needed help. However, Marcus had found that he had enjoyed cooking by himself, only allowing for help when he found it hard to stand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He appreciated the help most of all on the farm behind the house, without help, the vegetables and herbs would have withered before they even sprouted. The goats and chickens would have faired no better. Especially when Marcus had a particularly hard time finding a reason to leave his bed that morning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">At the end of the day Marcus flourished in this life, he could dig in the soil and milk the goats and prune the trees and work the horses and collect eggs and cook and bake and tire himself so much that when his head hit the pillow he would sleep. There was no real-time to think of anything at all, especially not of a beautiful Brigantes man. No, those thoughts were left for his loneliest times, nothing else.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>His mother is home, Marcus hands her the Eagle, she is there.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">The servants have begun to prepare for winter, there is not many of them, just enough to help take care of the house. They are still wary of Marcus, and he does not blame them, he rarely speaks and only gives commands when absolutely necessary. He keeps to himself, they step lightly around him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Mast-“ Marcus raises an eyebrow, “Marcus, sir, there is someone at the gate asking for you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus thanks Mithras for the gate surrounding his property, keeping senators and businessmen at bay, at least until they insisted on coming inside.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“What do they want?” He could barely make his way from the bed to his chair this morning, he doesn’t want to have to deal with <em>speaking</em> to another human today. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“They wouldn’t say, just said they were an old friend.” <em>Lutorius? No, he visited last month there would be no reason to return. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus just sighs. “Let them in, I shall meet with them in the vestibulum.” The servant just nods and leaves, <em>Esca would have huffed. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus sighs again, it’s all he is good at these days and makes his way through the villa to greet his guest. He was smart to design his house with so many chairs and benches laid about, perhaps the only smart thing he had done this past few months after returning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I leave for a few months and you turn into a hermit, really Marcus?” Daggers. Daggers straight into his heart, something he hadn’t felt in what had seemed <em>years.</em> Marcus didn’t realize how much he had missed such sweet pain. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Do you know any other Britons by that name?” <em>He looks… </em>Good? Handsome? Beautiful? As the Gods had intended him to look, muscular and filled out, with a slight smirk on his lips. His hair is longer and there is a scruff of beard on his face, he looks ragged. But Marcus still can’t help the way his chest caves within itself and he feels as though he cannot catch his breath.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“No, just the one.” Esca smiles at him, winter is near but the summer heat has seemed to return to Marcus for the moment. “Would you…would you like to bathe?” <em>Under my tongue. </em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I suppose a nice hot bath would do me well.” <em>It seems the smirk is still permanent</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Nona, if you would please show our guest to his room and fill a bath for him.” Esca just watched him as if he was testing him, Marcus didn’t mind. “I’ll prepare dinner for when you are done.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus watches as Esca is shown to his room. <em>He stands taller, sure of himself</em>. Then heads to the culina to begin dinner. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He asks Manius and Decimus to pick the freshest fruits, vegetables, and herbs they can find. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“We’ve noticed a chicken has begun to age, sir.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Well, then we shall have chicken tonight!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Yes sir.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If the servants had noticed that Marcus walked brisker then he had these past few months, they kept it to themselves. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">By the time the chicken was done, Esca had found his way over.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“A hermit and a cook, you’ve kept busy friend.” He had shaved, Marcus wondered which way he preferred. <em>Any way he is willing to give me.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">He had resigned to the fact long ago, though it was always nice to pretend. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“There’s not much else to do out here.” Esca hums, and they eat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It is silent, but Marcus does not mind, just to watch Esca eat is enough. To see him from afar is enough. Esca is enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">After they are done eating Marcus silently leads Esca to the back, a patio that overlooks his farmland. He’s not sure if he is boasting, or if it is some primal urge to show that he can provide. He does not dwell, Esca is by his side.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">And for a moment they are two people, not a Roman and a Briton, not a former master and slave, not two warriors who fought for the honor of the Ninth, just two people who know one another. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Of course, silence was meant to be broken. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I went to your uncle’s, he was shocked to see me in such a state.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus can picture the face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“He told me that you moved here several months ago.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“It was gifted to me by Rome, for my valiance.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I see.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca…”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Do you know why I returned to you?” Marcus assumed he would not be allowed to speak, and thus kept his mouth tight. “I went south, it was warm, the languages were all new, the landscapes were vast and beautiful, people did not care who I was or where I came from, I felt truly free.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus’ throat becomes tight as well.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I roamed the countryside, watched wild horses run with their foals, do you know who I thought of? Who I wish was by my side?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If Marcus could move he would have nodded, but his muscles betray him and all he can do is look at Esca as Esca bores back into him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“It was you, Marcus. Every night I went to sleep, every morning I awoke, every step I took, every thought, I wondered about you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca…” Marcus can’t help the way he says it so <em>broken</em>, maybe he is the lesser man he feared himself to be. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Did you do the same for me?” He wishes he could kiss the pain from Esca’s face away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Of course! Of course I did, you never left my thoughts, never.” It does not seem to help, as Esca’s face becomes even more stricken.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Then why did you ask me to leave your side.” Marcus idly wishes this was a dream, and he was still dying on that battlefield, it would be easier than this. Than the things he needs to say. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I — “</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Do not think of lying to me, Roman.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca, I have nothing left to give you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You said that once before.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Because it is the truth, there is honor returned to the Aquila name but I can no longer provide the way I used to. I am a lame centurion, that is all I am.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Is that what you truly think.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus just nods, the little he has said is the most he has spoken in a while, he is not used to such extraneous activity.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Then you are dumber than I thought you were.” Surprisingly Esca’s words are soft, but the hand that has made its way to Marcus' cheek is rough and callous, and the breath on his lips is hot, and the lips on his are chapped. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">It feels so wonderful Marcus wonders if this is Elysium </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“You do not have to provide for me, I am not some maiden in distress.” Marcus knows this, but he still cannot help the way he feels, he wants to give Esca all he wants and more, it is only natural when one is in love.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Esca, it is only the truth.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Well, I see a wonderful farm, filled with fruits and vegetables I have never heard of or tasted, with healthy animals and staff well taken care of by their master who loves to cook, that is more than enough.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Were there not others you met on your journey?” <em>Better than me.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“I thought of it a few times, but each time they opened their mouth I was reminded they were not you.” Esca speaks with daggers, Marcus does not think he could take much more speaking so he kisses him, it is rather addicting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Esca stands abruptly, Marcus wants to protest but a hand is held out to him. “So which is your room?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">If they pass any servants on the way it is hard to tell, especially when Esca is touching him <em>like that.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">They are clumsy and Marcus falls harder into the bed than intended and Esca laughs too much and their hands are both calloused from hard labor and his knee aches when they try to find a <em>comfortable </em>position and it is beautiful and Marcus would never ask for anything more. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">They lay with each other in the afterglow, Marcus thinks he may have died this time for true. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“How long have you know?” Esca speaks in whispers now, as if he is cautious of an invisible field around them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“Since you threw the dagger at my feet.” Marcus returns in whisper. “You?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">“When we returned the Eagle.” Marcus hums and holds Esca closer, <em>it is only right. </em>“But something began when I looked up at you from the ring.” If he held him any closer he’s afraid bones would break. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">Marcus is proud and Esca has honor, but here they are. Maybe their stories do end together.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2"> <em>His father is home, Marcus hands him the Eagle, Esca holds his hand, his father hugs him and Esca, his mother is there, she hugs them as well. They are happy. </em> </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>follow me on tumblr @ adhdbuck if ya like</p><p>also comments/criticisms are very appreciated!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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